


In Our Kingdom By The Sea

by fiveainley_ohmy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Vacation, disgustingly in love, some Princess Bridelock too :D
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 12:48:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6855313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiveainley_ohmy/pseuds/fiveainley_ohmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John go on holiday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Our Kingdom By The Sea

**Author's Note:**

> Well, as I'm on holiday at the beach right now, I was inspired to write some ocean side fun for our boys. ^_^

"It's gorgeous!" John said in amazement, gazing at the Holmes' family summer cottage. It was surprisingly rustic for such a posh family, but then, Sherlock's parents were refreshingly down to earth folks. It was medium sized with a lovely garden in front, and the sea was practically in their backyard.

"It's hasn't been used in months," said Sherlock, coming up beside him. "There's a staff that comes once every two weeks to tend the grounds and keep up the house, but no one's stayed here since...oh, I must have been fifteen or so. Mummy had read some studies on skin cancer and was worried about my fair complexion, so that was the end of the visits to the seaside, I'm afraid."

John chuckled fondly, leaning up to kiss Sherlock's cheek. "Don't worry. I brought plenty of sunscreen. The highest SPF I could find."

"Ta," Sherlock replied, cupping his husband's face and kissing him properly. "Help me carry in the bags?"

"Course, love."

After John's two suitcases and Sherlock's five were inside, John insisted Sherlock come back outside with him, then picked him up bridal style. Sherlock snorted derisively as John carried him back inside. "Aren't grooms supposed to carry their spouses over the threshold on their wedding night?"

"Mmm. Call it a second honeymoon," said John. He grinned wryly and headed for the master bedroom. "Come on, my blushing bride. Let's christen this house properly."

A while later, John was lying curled around Sherlock, pressing little kisses to his neck and shoulders. Sherlock was staring out of the picture window at the waves crashing peaceably against the shore. "I wish I had brought my violin," Sherlock rumbled lazily. "The scenery here is quite evocative."

"Well, good thing _someone_ thought to bring it along," said John, rolling away from him to pull out the case holding Sherlock's treasured Stradivarius from under the bed.

Making a noise of delight, Sherlock kissed him gratefully. "You're wonderful."

"You can thank me by playing something," John said, pushing the case toward him. Sherlock, stark naked, obliged, standing by the window as he did at Baker Street, gazing across the water. He put his bow to the strings and improvised a contented melody, solemn and sweet.

John lied there and listened to his husband's haunting notes, accompanied by the relaxing waves outside. After several minutes, John could bare it no longer. He stole out of bed, wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist from behind and resumed kissing his back.

Sherlock chuckled, never ceasing for a moment. "Again?" he said, amused and a touch incredulous.

"Mmm," John hummed against the nape of his neck. "Come back to bed," he purred.

"I thought you wanted to hear my music." Sherlock was smirking. Git. Oh, he'd definitely come along, but he couldn't resist teasing John a bit first.

"Oh, I do," said John, tracing the curve of Sherlock's ear with his tongue. "I'm gonna make you _sing_ , gorgeous."

"Oh, John..."

* * *

After an early dinner of Mrs. Hudson's turkey sandwiches (thank God for their beloved landlady), they reluctantly put on clothing and took a stroll along the shoreline. John's trainers ended up soaked, and Sherlock's curls blew wild in the breeze. "This isn't too cliché, is it?" Sherlock asked. "A romantic walk on the beach?"

John shrugged. "Classics are classics for a reason."

Sherlock gazed at the brilliant lavender and peach sunset. "God, look at that."

John twined their fingers together. "It's beautiful, love."

They stood there, looking in appreciation, till the firey red-orange globe sunk completely beneath the horizon, then still hand in hand, trudged back to the cottage.

* * *

After a bout of lazy mid-morning sex upon waking up (John was rather impressed with the insistency of both of their libidos), they ate a hasty brunch, then threw on their swim trunks and headed down to the bright beach scene. Sherlock absolutely coated himself in sunblock, and miraculously, he escaped with only minor pinkness to his skin. His freckles popped out rather significantly, however, and John had to stop himself from kissing every single one.

They went swimming in the warm salty water, splashing and dunking each other playfully, acting like giant children, instead of men in their near fifties. Sherlock went along the beach looking for seashells and marine life, and John fell asleep on the sand. When he woke up, he was covered chest-to-toe in a heavy layer of the stuff, Sherlock lying next to him, marveling at the fruit of his labors and grinning like the bastard he was.

"Oh, I'll get you for that, Sherlock Holmes," growled John laughingly, shifting his way out from under the sand, feeling a bit like the creature from the black lagoon. Sherlock laughed hiccuppingly and ran away, only for John to tackle him to the ground. Giggling like smitten schoolboys, they wrassled and rolled over and over, fighting for dominance, until playful roughhousing turned into groping and fervent kissing. They ended up with sand in all their nooks and crannies, and took another dip in the ocean to rinse off. Then they went back up to the house, kissing and pushing each other up against walls all the way to the shower, where the shenanigans only continued. Thoroughly shagged out (no pun intended), John and Sherlock curled up in bed together and fell asleep, happily exhausted.

When they woke up, the sun was going down again. John held Sherlock close, stroking and undoing the knots out of his unruly locks. "You're so beautiful," John murmured to him. "I love you so much."

"I love you too-" Sherlock's reply was interrupted by a yawn. "-John."

John laughed and kissed the top of his head, then his lips. "Go back to sleep, love."

"No," Sherlock said stubbornly, his heavy eyelids blinking open and closed lazily. "I don't want to miss a moment of this."

But eventually, sleep got the better of the consulting detective and he was dead to the world, cradled in John's arms. John kissed his quivering lips one more time, then he too fell back asleep.

* * *

The next day it was stormy, so Sherlock and John took the opportunity to curl up inside, cuddled together under a blanket on the couch, warm and cozy. They watched some of John's favorite movies (but no James Bond, at Sherlock's request). Sherlock sighed contentedly, his head resting on John's chest. "I wish we never had to leave," he mumbled.

"Yeah," said John wistfully, knowing how he felt. London, 221B Baker Street, was his home, but the seaside cottage was just absolute paradise it seemed to him. He looked out at the crashing waves, the cotton grey sky and stone-colored water reminding him so much of his Sherlock's eyes. " _It was many and many a year ago, in a kingdom by the sea_ ," he began to recite. " _That a maiden there lived whom you may know, by the name of Annabel Lee. And this maiden, she lived with no other thought, than to love and be loved by me. I was a child and she was a child, in this kingdom by the sea. But we loved with a love that was more than love, I and my Annabel Lee; with a love that the winged seraphs of heaven coveted her and me_."

Sherlock hummed. "That's lovely."

"Yeah, except the rest of it's rather morbid. She gets sick and dies. But hey, that's Poe for you," sighed John.

As the credits of Kenneth Branagh's _Love Labour's Lost_ rolled, Sherlock looked up at John, his eyes big yet scrunched with earnest. "John, I can't promise I'll never leave you-no one can promise that. But I do promise to stay with you as long as this mortal transport allows it."

"I know, love," said John, kissing Sherlock's hands. "You've already given me so many miracles. More than my share. Look at you, you 'died' three times and came back to life, just for me. Death really can't stop true love; all it can do is delay a little while."

Sherlock flushed, but also looked at him sideways. "That sounds like a quote from something. It's not Poe, is it?"

"God no, far too optimistic for him," laughed John. "It's from _The Princess Bride_ , remember?"

Sherlock tipped his head to one side, confused.

"Oh my God, how have you never seen _The Princess Bride_?!" John exclaimed in disbelief. "It's a classic! _'Fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, miracles_ '!"

"I've never heard of it," said Sherlock apologetically.

"I can't believe it! You're totally Miracle Max...no wait, bugger all, you're Wesley for sure."

"Is that a good thing?"

"Well he is the _hero_ ," said John. "See, there's this girl who lives on a farm, named Buttercup, and the farm hand who does all her bidding, named Wesley. Buttercup orders him around all the time, and Wesley always does as she says, and never says anything except for 'as you wish'. And one day Buttercup realizes that what he really means is 'I love you'."

Sherlock smiled. "I approve so far. Keep going."

John smiled back. "Okay, so Wesley leaves Buttercup to seek his fortune, so he can provide for her. But after several months apart, Buttercup receives news that Wesley's ship had been attacked by this famed, ruthless pirate, the Dread Pirate Roberts, who never spares anyone, so Wesley must be dead. Buttercup is heartbroken and vows to never love again."

"Poor Buttercup," said Sherlock, sounding genuinely empathetic-and maybe a touch guilty.

John nods. "So a few years pass, and Buttercup becomes engaged to the prince of the land, Prince Humperdinck. She doesn't really love him though. One day while riding her horse in the forest, three bandits take her hostage and put her on a boat, sailing for the neighboring land, with a plot to kill her."

"They can't!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"Well, hold on. On their way to the other country, another boat appears in the water, following them. The bandits take the princess and climb these high, dangerous cliffs with her. The sailor of the boat, a mysterious masked man all in black, follows them. The leader of the bad guys orders the other two, a master swordsman and a gigantic strongman, to kill him, but the man in black manages to elude them. Then he enters a deadly battle of wits with the leader for Buttercup. They have two glasses of wine. One is poisoned, one isn't. Both he and the other chap will each drink from a glass. One will die, one will survive."

Sherlock grins. "And let me guess, Buttercup shoots the bad guy in the chest before they can drink?"

"Well, no," chuckled John. "But luckily the man in black is a brilliant genius and manages to outwit the other guy."

"I'm surprised you've made yourself the damsel in distress in this analogy," teased Sherlock.

"Hey, Buttercup's a bad bitch!" said John defensively. "She tells that ponce in black right off. She figures out that he must be the Dread Pirate Roberts, the one who killed her love, and pushes him down a steep hill into a ravine, telling him to piss off. But as the pirate is tumbling, Buttercup hears him call out, ' _As you wish_ '."

"I knew it," said Sherlock smoothly. "Wesley's not stupid enough to get himself killed. Plus he would never leave Buttercup alone, if he loved her so much."

"Exactly. As it turned out, Wesley was spared by Roberts and taken on as an apprentice. Then, when Roberts decided to retire from piracy, he made Wesley the new Dread Pirate Roberts, and Wesley had been cruising around, raiding ships and getting rich and finding his way back to his love. Buttercup is so happy to see him again (although in my opinion, he deserves a right good punch in the nose for breaking her heart). So by now, the Prince and his hunting party are chasing after them. As it turns out, Humperdinck is secretly evil, and it was he who'd hired the trio to take Buttercup away and kill her, so he could launch a war with the neighboring kingdom."

"What a horrid person," Sherlock said softly.

"Aye," agreed John somberly. "Humperdinck threatens to execute Wesley for kidnapping the princess, but Buttercup offers to go willingly with Humperdinck in exchange for keeping Wesley alive. Wesley is heartbroken, but really, Buttercup just doesn't want him to die again. She loves him so much." John smiled ruefully, running his fingers through Sherlock's hair. "But Humperdinck secretly orders his henchman to take Wesley captive, and Humperdinck tortures him to death. Except, against all the odds, Wesley comes back to life, because he's still got something to live for."

"True love," Sherlock murmured tenderly.

John smiled at him, his eyes scrunching up at the corners. He nodded. "That's right. True love. Anyway, in the end, Wesley manages to save Buttercup from the evil prince and they run away together, and live happily ever after."

"And that's how it ends?" said Sherlock.

"Almost," said John. "They ride up onto a hilltop, on white horses, and kiss." John cupped Sherlock's face, coaxing him nearer. " _'Since the invention of the kiss, there have been five kisses rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind_.'"

Sherlock, smiling, leaned forward, bringing their lips together in a perfect kiss.

After several moments, they pulled apart, and Sherlock sighed, laying his head on John's chest again. "It sounds like a wonderful story. Perhaps a bit romantic, but then, you would like that sort of thing."

John rolled his eyes, laying back. "Well unfortunately, we don't have a copy of it here."

"Want me to play my violin for you again?"

"Would you, please?"

Sherlock smiled at him, his eyes twinkling, and said, "As you wish."


End file.
